A Different Fight
by Heaven Star
Summary: Youji and Schuldig find a place where they cannot fight, so how can they continue their enmity?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Welcome to my newest Weiss fic! I'm the first to admit I've never done a fic that is specifically Youji or Schuldig before, but I'm willing to try it and hopefully I won't get bogged down in clichés as I go (feel free to tell me if I am – I love constructive criticism).

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Weiss Kreuz nor am I in any way, shape or form connected to Project Weiss. I am merely using their ideas for my own amusement.

**Warning/s: **None

"A Different Fight**"**

**Chapter 1**

* * *

Youji nonchalantly walks out the door of the flower shop, his blonde hair glowing an odd green in the neon of the streetlights. His thoughts are elsewhere as he continues the motion of starting his car, then the music hits him and he doesn't need to think anymore. All he has to do is be. He turns it up as he heads down the freeway, the Tokyo city skyline lights up an almost ethereal rainbow of colour, a smoky smear across the velvety night sky above. All the stars are in hiding, unable to compete with the luminescent beauty below them.

It doesn't take long for the catlike assassin to select a bar, he doesn't feel like much dancing tonight, he does however feel like a beer. Damn, even spirits would be better than nothing. It had been one of those days, really. Ken had stuffed up the order so they didn't have enough baby's-breath to complete the arrangements for a clients engagement party, Omi had failed a test at school and was moping and Aya had been angry at the world, particularly the world within their flower shop, even the lovely young school girls hadn't brightened his spirits that afternoon – what was the point if he could look but not touch?

Glancing around the bar he commented inwardly that if he was looking for anything he would have left by now. The girl behind the bar had a bad dye job and whatever bra she was wearing wasn't doing anything for her, in fact Youji suspected she wasn't wearing one at all which, contrary to popular belief, did nothing for him. The two young things in the corner he may have started on, on any other night – but they weren't going to give him the playfulness and energetic chase he required if the activity was to work off any of his agitation. Behind their heavily made up eyes he doubted there had ever been a spark of activity, let alone an original thought process. No, it looked like he was going to have to remove his frustration at the world another way, he raised his beer and half drained it. It was beginning to feel like his entire life was just becoming a bar. He guessed that when he saw his life flash before his eyes it would just be the bottom of a beer glass. Sad, really.

* * *

Schuldig snarled at Crawford as he left the apartment, the door made a satisfying bang as he flung it closed behind him and he had the strong suspicion that he had also heard a cracking noise – also good. Something else for that obnoxious American to deal with. For the second time that week the telepath swore he wasn't going to come back. Yet for some reason he always did. He opened his car door, still muttering about incompetent leaders and impulsively he sent a particularly vicious probe back into the house and felt the leaders mind flinch away in pain. He regretted it almost instantly, but couldn't do anything about it. He hated how easily he could hurt people. They were defenceless and he could hurt them, almost literally, without a thought. Or at least he could leave _them_ that way. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, his own mind veering in horror away from that thought. He turned the key hard in the ignition and reversed violently out of the driveway before crunching the gears, something he hated doing normally, but now he was too pissed off to care, and flattened his foot on the accelerator, speeding into the night. Towards the disgusting technological wasteland, the jungle he for some unfathomable reason chose to stalk. The glaring lights all trying to compete for the right to burn his retinas. He relaxed a little. A good place to lose himself. Within the hell of that bustling city his mind would become so overwhelmed with other people's thoughts that it would go beyond annoyance, beyond even pain and become nothing. Sometimes that was all he could possibly wish for.

Schuldig parked directly in front of a bar tucked into a side street, blatantly ignoring the sign that stated 'No Parking'. His mind was already a mess of vibrations, he was no longer taking anything in. He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his cigarette packet and lit up, his exhalations joining with all the other smoky emissions that filled this city. It was fun wen he was in the mood, but pissed off was not one of those moods. He grimaced at the buildings towering above him, and a stray thought asked him about upside down cities and he wondered where the hell that had come from. He pushed it back into the depths of thought that weren't in the immediate forefront. He took a moment to be suitably impressed by the sheer amount in there and then realised it was a Friday night. He closed his eyes and bitterly took another drag – hoping he might float away with the smoke.

* * *

Youji looked at the door, swilling the remaining beer around in his glass in time to the throbbing R n B that filled the bar. Now _that_ chick had nice hair, a long lustrous red mane, well looked after and glossy. Not dry and bleached like so many he saw these days, straw-like and coarse. No, her hair was nice. He turned back to the bar and nodded his head to the song a little. His mind wandered and he felt himself accusing the other members of his team, more like family really…but still! Damn it, Omi – why choose today to tell the world that you're an angsting teen and don't want to help? Ken, why not double check with someone? Why not offer an alternative instead of stammering apologies as Aya blows up? Jesus Christ, why can't they just be more respectful of everyone else? He chose to ignore the recent spats he and Aya had been having over tofu in the fridge – _which, _just for the record, shouldn't be left there until it gains sentience. If you're going to buy it, that's fine, but damn well use it! The blonde sighed. He was sitting in a bar drinking on his own and stressing about tofu. He wondered if you could whistle up a life like a cab. He put down his empty beer glass, he didn't even remember draining it and the bar girl took it away.

* * *

Schuldig looked over his shoulder and contemplated going inside. He scoped out whether it would be worth his time, he had angry energy to burn and he needed to use it somewhere. He doubted the two girls in the corner were contributing at all to his inundation of thoughts, though he doubted he would be able to tell at the moment. Anyway, he wanted a challenge, not something _that_ easy. The girl serving at the bar desperately needed a bra, she wasn't that attractive anyway, but still. Now the girl sitting at the bar…Schuldig took another drag and contemplated. He couldn't see her face but she looked good enough from behind. Blonde hair fell in sculpted waves to her shoulders, she didn't seem vain, sitting almost languidly on the bar stool. He pondered for a moment whether he should bother, he glanced at his cigarette and took one last drag, if worst came to worst he could always just buy a drink and leave. He flicked the still smouldering butt into the darkness. He turned back to the bar and walked in as if he owned the place.

* * *

The serving girl at the bar looked up as a rather cute redhead approached, Youji looked up to see what she was looking at and paused. He blinked and wondered if he could possibly be drunk after one beer. He decided against it and then decided, instead, that he was in a bad situation.

* * *

Schuldig stalked across towards the bar, smiled at the serving girl, even though he wasn't interested and the blonde at the bar turned to look at him. From there on his plan fell to pieces. The casual chatter he had planned obliterated and he wished he had thought to bring something for this sort of situation with him, but of course he hadn't and his mind would be deadened by this inner city babble. He swore mentally and the two assassins stared at each other in amazement for at least four long moments before the German raised an eyebrow and broke the ice,

"Kittens shouldn't prowl the city, they have a tendency to get lost."

"So do Masterminds it seems." Youji replied without missing a beat. Schuldig was inwardly impressed, despite his worry that the other assassin would pull a wire out of his watch and kill him, but still impressed. Schuldig cocked his head to one side and indicated to the stool next to the Weiss member and asked,

"May I?"

It was Youji's turn to be impressed, but before the respect registered he had already responded, archly,

"Manners all of a sudden?"

The two looked at each other again before the redhead swept in close, as if they were in a club and the music were too loud, foreheads connecting on an angle as the German's smoky breath hit the blonde's ear as he said,

"We can't fight here, Weiss."

Youji's green eyes danced in amusement before he responded, with a sliver of sarcasm,

"So what do you suggest? We each have a drink and go our separate ways?"

"I propose a different competition." Schuldig's mind whirled, he was sure he could easily beat this annoying man and then head off into the city, having successfully beaten him. Youji's eyebrows raised as he pulled away and said,

"Really?"

* * *

**A/N:** Sadly I'm also notorious for short chapters, my apologies. Please review this chapter if you enjoyed it – even if you didn't enjoy it, feel free to review it! All input is greatly appreciated.

I don't believe the fanon rumour that Crawford is immune to Schuldig's telepathy, I prefer to think that Schuldig just respects his leader enough not to abuse the privilege. If you can find an example of this in canon, I'm quite happy to change my stance.

This oddment is accredited to Akari Ryu who made a comment while we were wandering around the city at night a few weeks ago about upside down cities. I felt it was random enough to include as a thought here.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I finally got back to this fic, it took me a while, thanks for the reviews to Liquidzilla, Princess Sin & Tigerminkand I'm so sorry it took so long to update, the transition from High School to University took a bitmore of my time than I had hoped and this fic was one of the ones that stalled, however I've now updated and I've also revised the first chapter a little, if you read it before I updated don't worry too much, I think I changed about 4 sentences and even then it was only removing or changing a word, so you won't be out of the loop for this chapter. I hope you enjoy it!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Weiss Kreuz nor am I in any way, shape or form connected to Project Weiss. I am merely using their ideas for my own amusement.

**Warning/s: **None

"A Different Fight**"**

**Chapter 2**

Youji slid into the traffic heading along the main highway feeling odd, his veins were filled with adrenaline, since he had seen the red head in the bar he had been on edge, this was pushing it way past the limit and he knew it, but for some reason he didn't care just then, he was still so pissed off he didn't care. He watched his hands trembling a little and shook his head before gripping the steering wheel tighter and ignoring it. Adrenaline did that to a man. He was half expecting to hear a gunshot behind him, every nerve was on edge – he was being reckless, foolish, insane…He decided to stop putting himself down in his last seconds of life. The German's suggestion had knocked him for more than six, it was about an eight he guessed.

* * *

"_Do you like to dance, Weiβ?"_

_Youji had blinked at such a curveball question, wary he nodded and the German had laughed, the last remnants of smoke slid through the scent of his breath before he had locked eyes with the blonde again, forehead to forehead and said, an almost crazy grin on his face,_

"_I bet you I look sexier."_

_With that the telepath had turned and strolled nonchalantly out of the bar, seemingly without even the thought of a backward glance to see if Youji would attack or even respond. It was then that Youji noticed that the German had left a card behind on the bar, the bar girl had glanced at it before nodding and saying,_

"_That's a good club."_

_Youji had never heard of it._

* * *

Skidding through the narrow back streets the German smirked as he manoeuvred the sports car out into the main drag and opened up the powerful engine with a deft flick of the gear-stick skittering along lanes and around cars, ignoring whatever "limits" were imposed on this road. He killed people for a living, what did he care for a fine? His veins were alight with furious, rebellious joy and the music tearing from his stereo was the only goddamn thing he could hear and for that alone he was feeling high, loose, free, wild…no drug could transcend the feeling a telepath got when his mind no longer hummed with thoughts not their own. The transcendent bliss, leaving everything behind and just revelling in yourself, was indescribable. To top it all off he was going to play with the Weiβ kitten, he'd at least be showing _someone_ the feelings he was feeling now, this freedom, this irrepressible urge to just let go and _live_ and know that they would never be able to stand up against it. He laughed, long and loud and hard into the night as it blurred overhead and the neon lights that bled the light from the stars he should have been able to see at this hour hit his, usually impassive or even cruel navy eyes with their luminescence, as if they were shining just for him. Tonight already tasted good, because he could hear nothing except himself. Even his fight with Crawford had fallen away, whisked from his brain with all the other crap, dragged out by the wind as it whipped past him.

* * *

The first thing Youji noticed about the club was there was no line. A close second was the fact that its entrance was set below street level, a well worn flight of concrete stairs, not the neat sort of concrete, the sort that was crumbling and being invaded by plant matter that defied humans to inhabit even the most hostile of regions. There may have been a handrail once, there snubs of ochre coloured metal placed at regular intervals along the edge of the stairs not butted up against the slimy brick wall that the blond assassin assumed had once been bolts, but had long since decided to give up on that occupation and become odd talking points, if the patrons of this club even noticed them. He was relieved to hear the thudding bass-line of music crushing all other soundwaves near the door to the place, flanked by the same bouncers you could find at any club – Balinese briefly wondered if that was some sort of prerequisite at bouncer training "thou shalt look the same as all the other guys". He smirked, he must still be shaky if he was thinking of stupid things like that. He nodded to them and they stepped aside – they knew the look of a seasoned playboy when they saw one. Youji contemplated being offended by this but then smirked, taking it as a complement and stepping into the shifting gloom of the club's interior. 

His first instinct, always his first instinct when seeing the low hanging cloud that surrounded any club, was to light up. He usually refrained from doing so, it could put off girls he tried to pick up if they were against men who smoked, but tonight he didn't care and decided he needed one to calm his nerves. On the upside he noted, they were playing _actual_ music, not the R n B shit that bar had selected for its "mood". As he dragged on his drug of choice's slender butt his green eyes surveyed his surrounds and his assassin's instincts placed him with his back to the wall, where he could see all of the club, including the entrance. The bar was small and seemingly shoved as an after thought into the far corner from where he stood. It was manned by a short man with a salt and pepper moustache and hair, both well clipped and neat. The blond hadn't thought that those sort of bartenders existed anymore, assuming them all to be replaced by the busty, vacant eyed, smiling girls he had found at ever other place he had ever been to and who could mix any cocktail you asked for, but they'd pour a beer that was at least a third head – he assumed their training explained that having an excellently endowed bust allowed you to get away with this, as most males wouldn't notice until they had walked away from the bar…admittedly the trick had always worked on him.

The dance floor was seemingly not designated, the entire place was covered in floor boards that seemed well sprung and similarly almost the entire place was crammed with people dancing, and to his surprise he didn't spot a single teeny-bopper bouncing up and down and jiggling whatever they possessed that jiggled, not always a good thing, in whatever they assumed in time to the beat was. Instead he saw suave playboys like himself, you found the min every club, strutting their stuff, girls dancing like they knew what they were doing and guys testing out whatever moves they had, which was generally to a pretty high standard, in Youji's opinion. He also couldn't help but notice that no-one seemed overly interested in picking up, after a while you could tell from the body language, but they all seemed absorbed in their dance, whatever the DJ sent them from his alcove off to one side, they would take and enjoy. Taking a last drag he looked up at the door and saw the red head walk in.

* * *

The German smirked when he saw the kitten smoking near a wall, surveying his surrounds. Obviously the playboy was either intimidated by the surrounds, waiting for his arrival or simply couldn't dance. Any of these things were good for him and the challenge he had set so, frankly, he didn't care what the cause was. Smirking he followed the Japanese man's lead and lit up, taking a drag as he walked over and half surveying the room as he did so. He fleetingly wondered what had made him show his enemy his refuge, the only club he considered when he wanted a night out, rather than a night to pick up whatever would jump him first. Shoving that thought aside, the only problem with being able to hear only your own thoughts was that you then had to deal with them, not something the red-head particularly enjoyed, however this slight draw back was never going to take away the euphoria he felt at the silence. 

He smirked at the blond around his cigarette, another fleeting thought asking him whether it was possible to actually _feel_ your lungs rotting. He didn't care about that thought, he was going to die long before cancer ever got the chance to set in and he knew it. It was part of the territory of those in his trade – 30 was _old._ Taking the cigarette out of his mouth and holding it to one side he commented, smoke whisping from between his lips to mingle with the communal cloud above,

"You're not dancing, Weiβ, you'll never beat me standing here."

The blond chuckled, no hint of fear showed in his eyes and the Telepath was deaf to whatever was behind their emerald depths, another draw back, but he knew people well enough generally to see through lies even without his curse. Unfortunately the kitten was obviously not a "general" person and the Mastermind picked up nothing from him as the other man took a drag and said, his eyes flicking to meet the red-head's navy's,

"A competition can't start till both sides are there, can it? Besides, I don't need to warm up for this."

The German couldn't help himself, he smirked and inwardly handed it to the blond, in unfamiliar surrounds, with an enemy and still he could keep his cool and snap back. The red-head's respect went up slightly and at the same time h realised that the other assassin was _at home_ in these surrounds, he didn't need to prove anything here and he was just enjoying it, despite all the other factors. Taking another drag he indicated to where the main mass of bodies had converged on the floor.

"Shall we?"

The Japanese man stepped forward away from the wall, taking a short drag as he did so and replied, smirking.

"Name your pleasure, Mastermind."

Schuldig couldn't help himself, he chuckled and bit back every response that sprung to mind, heading out into the moving mass in silence, uncaring whether the Weiβ member followed or tried to hang him with that lovely wire he kept in his watch. He mentally rolled his eyes, he'd already checked that and the blond wasn't wearing a watch and his clothing was much to tight to allow him to conceal anything else. Trust wasn't something that Schuldig was used to, and he wasn't even sure whether he had received it, but it was nice to dream. Tossing his cigarette butt to the floor the German began to dance, the music hitting all the nerves that were normally rubbed raw in daily life by the constant onslaught of thoughts, and it soothed him as much as it invigorated him. He turned around and saw the kitten had followed him, and the bastard even knew what he was doing on the dance floor. Maybe he wouldn't have to pull this guy's playboy card after all…

* * *

Youji was momentarily floored by the red-head's confidence, in _everything_, the German didn't just talk the talk, which he did surprisingly well, but he walked the walk, danced the dance and verbed every other verb Youji could think of with an easy going, yet biting confidence. Youji was jealous as hell. He wasn't bad, he knew that much, but the other assassin took "good" to a whole new level, past the point of not caring and into the realms where only the devil himself could go. He snorted inwardly as he complimented himself on being able to keep up, kicking that thought into a corner another one quickly took its place, the last one he was to have for a while, 

"_To hell with it."_

And with that he began to dance, the Mastermind's back was to him and for some reason that didn't matter. For the first time that night he was confidently able to shrug off the mantle of shit he had been wearing and just let go. He no longer cared that Ken was being an idiot, that Aya was a moody bitch and that Omi was the worst angsting teen he had ever met. He no longer even gave a damn whether or not the German killed him or was planning to kill him, or even what the German thought of him, all he cared about now was letting go. He had been pushed to the edge of something tonight and instead of back-pedalling like a sane person he had jumped. The red-head had made him insane for this point in time and he didn't care. He just kept dancing as the red-head turned around and caught his eye. The Japanese man swore inwardly, laughing in part at himself and his situation and in part because he no longer cared – the bastard could even dance like the devil.

* * *

For a while Schuldig was content just to watch the blond dance, when he moved his motions screamed sex appeal without being sleazy, his motions were precise without being overly practiced or pompous, his revelry was wild and just barely in the realms of control. Nonchalant the red-head threw himself back into the "fight" without caring, he had come here for a challenge and even if he hadn't quite anticipated its depth he was never one to go down without a fight. Ask Crawford, the German would argue that the world was flat, yelling until his throat bled, just because he could. The leader often called him the devil – a title he whole heartedly embraced, life was more fun that way. 

"You're not bad, Weiβ. For a while there I was worried I'd picked the wrong dancing partner back at that bar."

The grudging compliment was laced with the smart arsed sarcasm that left Schuldig as easily as the carbon dioxide he exhaled, he smirked as the blond replied,

"I wish I could say the same, but I don't pick up before I hit the club, it takes the fun out of it."

The red-head laughed, throwing his head back and sending his lavish mane spraying out behind him as he revelled in the music. When his head snapped back to level his navy eyes locked onto Balinese's greens and, stepping in, he said, smirking,

"You can't say you're not having fun, Weiβ."

* * *

The devil was right, he was enjoying himself. He hadn't been able to just dance like this in months, inundated with work and the subsequent exhaustion had driven all thoughts of clubbing from his mind, and even when he did get out it was usually only to pick up. That had been lifted from him here and he could just be. The fact he was dancing with a member of Schwarz only heightened the experience, driving it past the realms of sanity – off the edge, like a speeding car with no brakes the exhilaration was the same and it was _hot. _The red-head opposite him had lit up, Youji had long since dropped his first cigarette, leaving it to litter the floor on which he danced, and without thinking the blond plucked the burning cancer-stick from the other assassin's pale, thin fingers and took a drag before offering it back, he was surprised to find they smoked the same brand, small world. The red-head cocked a fiery eyebrow before the cigarette back and taking a drag. The danced in silence for a while, the Mastermind eventually discarding the cigarette as it burnt down to nothing in his delicate hand. The two assassins lost track of time, it merged into the DJ's seamless set, each lost in their own thoughts of themselves or of their dance partner. 

They barely noticed when a small space had cleared around them, the only sign they made was shifting a little to make use f the newly created space, altering their dancing to take their "fight" to a new level. Youji's focus shifted, half the time he was lost in himself, in the music, in absolute nothing the other half was watching the Mastermind work. Despite his occupation, Youji noticed the red-head wasn't overly muscular, he was well defined but not what Youji would define as "ripped", yet he could make what he did have seem like ultimate strength, the confident gloss he cast over everything he did making each of his seamless, writing and innately graceful movements innately sexy. His long mane of red hair had cascaded free of his bandana andin the shifting light gleamed like freshly spilled blood as it sprayed and scattered all around him, his mouth upturnedin abandonment.The German knew he was hot but had no qualms about it, he just enjoyed it. Youji laughed at himself when he realised that he wasn't minding the show either because, for some reason, he knew that the Schwarz member had had a shit night too, otherwise he wouldn't have abandoned himself to the music, to such a wild and reckless game like the one they were playing. The German obviously wasn't strong all the time and this made him seem more human.

The object of his scrutiny reached out and took his cigarette, smirking. Apparently two could play that game.

* * *

Schuldig dragged on the cigarette, closing his eyes, yet behind them, as if the cigarette itself had assumed the essence of the blond, images flickered behind his eyes. The man seemingly had no idea that he could move with the grace and skill of the cat after which he was named. All sleek lines and impeccable balance. His blond hair was sleek and shiny, flowing with him as aunited whole.Opening his eyes and exhaling the German returned the cigarette to the smirking blond. The telepath had practically lost track of what game they were playing and he knew the other man had too, they were both looking to escape and they had found it, for now. The music rolled on and Schuldig watched the blond roll with it oozing confidence and a careless recklessness that Schuldig felt he could never hope to match…that didn't mean he wasn't going to try. He wondered idly if the kitten had any idea what he was running from, why he seemingly craved this abandonment with everything he had – only that desire could make the man dance like this. Schuldig felt his soul burn as he watched the man and knew he was going to hell for what he was doing but didn't care, that man had a freedom he could only dream of.

* * *

The DJ finally dropped the set and Youji felt his body grind to a stop, and exhaustion hit him like a metaphoric bullet train, nowhere specific, just a general all over feeling that he now needed to collapse. But he couldn't. Instead he looked at the German opposite him, who stood, his breathing slightly laboured, but his eyes still as piercing, as if he had seen the blond's soul and burned it just by seeing it. The red-head smirked finally, nodding before walking past, saying quietly, 

"Auf Wiedersehen, Weiβ."

Youji turned to follow the German's progress but he lost him already in the crowd. He sighed and lit up the last cigarette in his pack – it had been new that morning but he had burned up a lot in the game he had been playing with the wild red-head. He started to head out the door and as he passed the bar he nodded to the barman, they hadn't had a chance to talk that night, an odd occurance on any of his clubbing exploits, but it had been known to happen, particularly when he didn't want his senses addled. The barman simply looked at him for a moment before saying,

"I never thought I'd see anyone keep up with that sinner…"

Youji chuckled at this comment as he walked out the door, apparently he wasn't the only one who saw the German's sex appeal sinful.

**A/N: **That's possibly the longest chapter I've ever written for a fic, I'm sorry if it isn't as good as the previous one but I hope you enjoyed it just the same, I had fun writing it, please review so I can attempt to make the next chapter better and hopefully sooner. Also, for those who care – the music I used to try and get into the mood for this fic was "Dance Around the World" from the Initial D soundtrack and later "Rain" by the Klubbhoppers (aka. German techno) I'm sorry if people wanted some description of the actual dancing, but I felt it would ruin the mood, so I left it out, also if it came across as repetitive or predictable, sorry again – if you _did_ notice these things, feel free to review and tell me - Heaven Star

Schuldig's German phrase, for those who don't know, means "Till we see again" or a standard, polite German farewell.


End file.
